


Into The Breach

by ThistleCrown



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Inquisitor, Angst incoming, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Modern Girl in Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16860217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThistleCrown/pseuds/ThistleCrown
Summary: Just another MGIT trash-fic.We'll see if I manage to actually update this one.---





	1. Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, it is past the time I would like to be in bed so I am not proof-reading this before posting it because I just want to get this up while it's still Dragon Age day. I will go back later and proof-read to change any mistakes/redundant sentences.

[ _ So sorry, looks like I’m not gonna make it tonight. _ ]

[ _ I’m literally the worst friend, I’ll make it up to you. _ ]

[ _ Happy birthday _ ]

 

She stared at the string of messages on her phone, thumb hovering over the keypad as she considered responding. What was there to say though? As much as her gut felt heavy with disappointment, she wasn’t particularly surprised. After all, this was the fourth year in a row that her attempts at celebrating her birthday fell apart.

Farrada signed and turned the screen of her phone off. She walked over to the window and moved the curtains aside to check outside. Large, fluffy snowflakes fell through the air, the fierce wind whipping them around in every direction until it almost looked as if they were circling in mid-air.  _ Boots it is, then _ .

She knew she couldn’t blame anyone for not making it to her place in this weather. She knew no one had really been able to give her a concrete ‘yes’ in the first place. But it still stung, and her movements were sharper than usual as she jerked the laces of her former Air Force boots tight. 

She re-opened her phone to request an Uber to the nearest bar. It would be crowded and noisy, and she knew logically that it would not improve her mood. None of that mattered in the moment though. She moved into the bathroom to check her makeup and wiped off her lipstick. No point in fussing with that when it was just going to come off as soon as she got a couple of drinks in her. For a moment her gaze paused on the silver tiara on the counter before she gave a half-hearted smirk and situated it on her freshly dyed, pink hair. 

_ “Will you actually wear this more than once?” _ her mother had asked so many years ago.

_ “Yes!” _ a much younger, more enthusiastic Farrada had responded.  _ “I’ll wear it every year on my birthday!” _

It was a silly thing, almost more of a headband than a tiara, but Farrada still loved the tiny, metal black roses woven along the silver band and, with a few exceptions, she had kept her promise. 

She moved through her apartment and stuffed the pockets of her winter jacket with her hat and gloves, deciding to bring them on the off-chance that by the time she was ready to leave the bar she would prefer to wait outside for her ride. She grabbed her worn, leather purse off of its hook and propped it on the arm of her futon as she rifled through the pouch.

_ Phone, wallet, keys, pocket journal, pen, chapstick, mirror… Should be everything _ . 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket to alert her that the ride she requested had arrived. Farrada wrapped her favorite scarf around the lower half of her face and neck, zipped her jacket closed, and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

“You Farrada?” the driver asked as she approached the car. She nodded yes and he unlocked the doors for her to enter the back seat.

“Thanks for driving out in this storm,” she said.

“Oh, no worries, this is nothing if you’re local. Going out to do anything fun this Friday evening?” He asked.

“Getting drunk,” she muttered, propping her chin on the palm of her hand and staring out the window at the flurries of snow.

“Well, at least you’re not driving!” he said cheerfully as he pulled out of her apartment complex. Farrada gave a non-committal noise in return. She was in no mood for talking to strangers. 

The bar was blissfully close, and she exited the car with a wave as the driver cheerfully called after her to be safe. The bouncer checked her ID as she stripped out of her coat and scarf and folded them over her arm, handing back the card with a sunny “Happy birthday!” She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she slipped her card back into her wallet and muttered her thanks in return.

The karaoke room was crowded, but Farrada was relieved to see that there was room at the bar. Alcohol could take the edge off of her various chronic pains, but she had yet to test if she manage standing without pain if she were drunk and did not want to test that theory. She took a seat at the bar closer to the back of the room where things were slightly quieter and took a moment to hang her jacket and purse under the counter before ordering her first shot of amaretto. 

She didn’t wait long enough to feel it before she ordered her second.

The room was full of people, full of laughter and music, and she finally felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders as the liquor creeped into her system. She laughed at the snippets of conversation she heard around her, trying not to be too obvious whenever she reacted to a punchline that was not directed at her. 

She started ordering her amaretto with coke as well, watering the liquor down with something sweeter to pace herself. She sang along with anyone on stage who had chosen a song she vaguely knew, not caring if the people around her heard. Every time Farrada felt herself approaching sobriety again she chased it away with another drink.

She didn’t know how long she sat at the bar before the buzz of being happily drunk around music was replaced by the melancholy of yet  _ another _ failed birthday celebration. Eventually she checked her phone, and when she saw it was approaching midnight Farrada decided she had stayed out late enough. She closed her tab, grabbed her belongings from under the bartop, and headed out of the bar to call another ride.

The snow was still falling, even thicker than before, and she half considered going back inside but the cool air almost felt like relief on skin Farrada hadn’t realized was overheated in the crowded room. Once she confirmed a driver was on their way to get her, Farrada pocketed her phone and slipped on her mittens.

The light above her went out and Farrada looked up with a frown. The area around her wasn’t so dark that she felt unsafe, but she knew it certainly wasn’t an ideal situation. Further along the building green light spilled out from around the corner. Farrada knew it wasn’t wise to approach what looked like an alleyway alone at night and certainly less than sober, but something about the shade looked oddly familiar.

“Someone, help me!”

Farrada froze in place at the cry, swaying slightly against the wind. Something about that voice was  _ familiar _ . She felt her brows furrow in annoyance.  _ Where have I heard that voice? _

“... Help me!” The voice cried again.

Farrada’s feet seemed to carry her forward of their own volition, until she was running and skidding towards the light spilling from around the corner, trying to clear the fog from her head so that she could help. 

As she rounded the corner, green filled her vision and she shut her eyes against the light as she fell.

And kept falling.

Farrada curled in on herself, feeling sick as she fell through the air. She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t even open her mouth to scream, she was paralyzed by one of her greatest fears.

She hit the ground hard, slamming most of the right side of her body into the dirt.

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

“Andraste’s tits! Where did you come from?”

_ What? _

Farrada opened her eyes to see a shorter, brunette woman staring up at her from below. With a jolt she realized she had landed on a piece of land floating in mid-air, and as she looked around she felt her stomach sink through the ground.

“This… This is the fade. How the fuck is this the fade?”

“Who  _ are _ you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” the heavily accented voice that Farrada had followed here called out and she turned her head to see the glowing visage of the former Divine hovering above the ground. “We have to  _ move _ !”

“No, no, no, this isn’t real.” Farrada said as she picked herself up off the ground. Her right shoulder and hip were bruised from her landing and she was forced to limp to the edge of her floating platform. “This can’t be fucking real.”

“Worry about that later,” the woman  - the Herald - called. “Can you get down?”

Farrada’s mouth went dry as she looked down but she knew what was coming. If this was somehow real, she would rather not stick around for the giant spiders that were bound to show up any moment. She tightened her grip on the strap of her purse and lept.

The Fade didn’t adhere to the laws of physics, and Farrada landed much more easily not far from the other woman. The brunette rapidly approached her, hands outstretched and glowing green.

“Are you all right? Can you move?”

She knew that accent, that long braid of chocolate brown hair, those freckles…

“Selina?”

She pulled back and the sage green light around her hands went out. “Who in the bloody name of the Maker  _ are _ you?”

The Spirit-Divine cried out and both women looked up to see the giant, nightmare like demons crawling towards them rapidly. Farrada reached forward and grabbed Selina by the wrist.

“Run.”

Farrada hissed as she put weight on her injured side and Selina immediately pulled one arm over her shoulder and wrapped her hand around Farrada’s waist, helping her move as quickly as they could up the path Justinia was ushering them towards. The path was steep, and Farrada could hear the monsters scuttering over the rocks behind her, growing louder in their approach until she and the mage were nearing the crest of the path. Selina reached her free hand out towards Justinia’s and as their hands touched, light flashed once again and the two women stumbled onto the snow.

_ This isn’t real _ , Farrada thought one last time before she slipped from consciousness with her arm still over Selina’s shoulders.


	2. Horror and Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I finally finished chapter two! And as a warning: there is some violence and blood in this chapter but I kept it brief and not very detailed. I'm squeamish.  
> Chapter three has a title and an outline. Hopefully it won't take another two+ months to finish that one.

It almost seemed overly cautious, having four armed guards, the Seeker, and Leliana all standing watch over the two unconscious and unarmed women on the ground. But then they were the cause of all of this destruction, weren’t they? Someone had to be responsible for the destruction of the Conclave, for the rows upon rows of the dead.

For the death of the Divine.

The mark on Selina’s hand flared, causing her to jerk awake. As Selina’s back spasmed in her surprise, Farrada was dragged into consciousness from the movement of the woman  pressed against her back.

Her mouth felt unbearable dry and she fought to keep her eyes closed against the hangover that had set it.  _ Wooo, your first hangover. Happy fucking birthday - welcome to twenty-five _ .

Farrada felt her brows furrow as she realized she was on her knees on the cold, hard ground and not in a bed. Her wrists stung, and she cracked one eye open and fought the panic rising in her chest at the sight of her manacle bound wrists and the armed guards in the dungeon cell around her. Cassandra entered her field of vision, circling like a hawk.

_ Cassandra _ ?

_ This can’t be real. This  _ can’t _ be real! _

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” Cassandra’s voice was dangerously low as she spoke, and Farrada couldn’t suppress the siver that ran down her spine at the woman’s tone. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone is attended is dead. Except for the two of you.”

Farrada’s heart hammered in her chest so hard she was half convinced the other women close to her must be able to hear it as well. She fought to push the shackle around her left wrist up and away from her tattoo, worried about how the harsh metal chafing her skin might damage it.

“What do you mean everyone is dead?” Selina asked, and Farrada was struck with how surreal it felt to hear the words she had heard so many times with a different voice and a different accent.

Farrada felt Selina’s back be pulled away from her as Cassandra grabbed the mage’s wrist and yanked it upwards. “Explain this!”

“I… I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there.”  
“You’re lying!” Cassandra snarled and Selina braced herself for impact as the Seeker raised her hand to strike.

“We need her, Cassandra,” Leliana finally spoke. Farrada heard soft footsteps as Leliana circled around her and knelt to her level. “And you? What do you know of all this?”

“I… nothing,” Farrada’s voice cracked from dehydration as she spoke.

Torchlight glinted in the spymaster’s eyes as she took in the strange woman before her. “Something tells me that is not quite true,” she murmured.

“I don’t understand, I’m not supposed to  _ be _ here,” Farrada’s voice shook as she spoke, as she realized that almost everyone in the room could easily kill her even as she tried to convince herself that none of it was real.

“Yes, I’m sure your plan to destroy the Conclave did not include getting caught,” Cassandra scoffed from behind her.

“No, I… look at me, I don’t belong here!”

Leliana stood as she raked her gaze over the chained woman before her. Her clothes were odd - black, tight fitting trousers that were made from some materials she hadn’t encountered before clung to the woman's legs. Her top was an odd, puffy garment and while Leliana could see a seam down the front, she was unsure how it remained closed. And then there was the matter of the woman’s hair…

“I believe her, Cassandra,” Leliana said as she moved back towards the Seeker. Farrada’s shoulders sagged with relief, however as she relaxed she felt her left shoulder spasm out of the socket and winced.

“But how can you know?” Farrada was stunned at just how strained Cassandra sounded. In the games she was always angry, irritated, almost fearless.

“I have a feeling. Besides,” Leliana lowed her voice so their two prisoners would not overhear and smiled. “No one with hair quite that pink could have done this willingly.”

“Ugh.”

Farrada found herself suppressing a laugh in spite of herself as Cassandra let out one of her infamous noises of disgust.

“I don’t understand,” Selina spoke up.

Leliana turned to gaze at the mage bound before her. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

“I remember running, things were chasing us and… a woman?”

“A woman?” Leliana prompted.

“She reached out to me then…” Selina trailed off, brow furrowed as she fought to remember.

“We tripped, and fell,” Farrada finished. “I  believe that’s when your men found us.”

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Cassandra ordered. “I will take them to the rift.” The spymaster nodded and left as Cassandra moved to help her two prisoners to their feet.

“What  _ did _ happen?” Selina asked.

With the help of one of the guards, Cassandra removed their manacles and instead bound their hands with rope. She raised her brow at the odd marking on Farrada’s wrist but said nothing. After all - the stranger had bright pink hair and spectacles framed by some odd, pink material that didn't appear to be any sort of wire or metal. The swirling colors on her wrist were simply as foreign as the rest of her.

“It… will be easier to show you,” Cassandra prompted the two women forward out of their cell. Their progress was slowed by Farrada’s limping after her fall into the Fade, but all too soon they were all outside, momentarily blinded as they fought to adjust to the glare of the sunlight off the snow and then…

It was so much more horrifying, seeing it in person.

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra spoke from behind her prisoners, her voice softer as she stared up into the void in the sky. “It is a massive rift into the world of demons…”

Farrada tuned their conversation out as she stared at the sky in dread. She had seen this so many times, heard this dialogue so often that she nearly had it memorized, but the reality was so different from the distant, green haze she had seen on her screen.

Huge, flaming chunks of rock flew through the sky as they were hurled from the rift. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Farrada wondered if they were the remnants of whatever structure the Conclave had been held in. The edges of the rift looked charred and blackened, making it appear almost as a wound, and even from a distance Farrada swore she could see  _ things _ moving through the tear in the world. 

The Breach flashed suddenly, and expanded even further into the sky as Selina cried out in pain and fell to her knees. Her other hand glowed sage green for a moment and she tried to heal the glowing tear in her palm, but the sickly green mark only glowed brighter in defiance and she hissed in pain.

“I understand.”

“Then...”

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes,” Selina said firmly. Cassandra gave a small nod in response before she looked up to Farrada.

“And you?”

Farrada’s mouth felt dry, her eyes were wide in fear, her head pulsed and her body ached all over from her fall as well as her chronic pain. She could still feel her heart hammering against her ribs and fought to take a steadying breath.

“What can I do?”

Cassandra shrugged and gestured for the party to move forward through Haven. “That remains to be seen…”

Once again, Farrada stopped listening as Cassandra spoke of the people of Haven having decided their guilt. She had heard this all before, albeit directed at whichever character she was running at the the time and not  _ her _ personally. She stared at the people around her as they moved down the path. The angry and suspicious stres from the soldiers and civilians she had seen so any times before were suddenly intermingled with openly shocked expressions, no doubt at the oddly dressed woman with strange, pink hair. Farrada noted with interest that Selina held her head high against the hateful stares directed at her, though she made a point to stare straight ahead to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze directly.

Two soldiers opened the gates of Haven for the women to exit. Cassandra turned to her prisoners and pulled a dagger from her belt to unbind their hands once they had left the walls. 

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more. Can you walk?” She asked Farrada as she cut the ropes from her wrists, finally acknowledging her limp.

“Not very well,” Farrada admitted as she slowly reached a hand into her pocket. A small amount of relief washed over her as she felt her knitted beanie in her pocket and pulled it out and over her head to tuck her hair out of sight. “When I fell I think I messed up my hip. It’s not really sitting in the socket right.”

“Seeker, if I may?” Selina offered, her right hand already glowing again with healing magic. Cassandra gave a curt nod and the mage moved towards Farrada.

She tensed as Selina approached, but as soon as she felt the cool, tingling sensation of Selina’s magic she found herself almost involuntarily leaning in, seeking more. Within seconds the pain in her hip and along her leg where she had hit the ground had nearly vanished, and she nodded at Cassandra to continue.

It felt surreal, following the two women herself. Farrada more than half expected Selina to lead the trio, but instead she kept pace by Cassandra’s side as they moved up the path to the forward camp. The mark flared again and Selina stumbled, but Cassandra and Farrada quickly helped her up again. Farrada continued to ignore their conversation, lost in her own thoughts and knowing she could afford to not pay attention to what was being said - she had heard it so many times before with every time she had started a new game and gone through the tutorial.

The game… She shook her head to herself as she followed them. None of this should be possible. None of this should be  _ real _ . But even in her nightmares Farrada had never experienced anything like the jolting pain of her landing in the fade or the bone-aching chill seeping through her worn combat boots after who knows how many hours she had spent unconscious in the dungeon below Haven’s Chantry. In the past when video games had seeped into Farrada’s dreams they had never been quite so chronological, and she had certainly never been herself in them.

Farrada slowed as the two woman crossed one of the stone bridges, waiting… and sure enough, a flaming piece of debris hit the bridge, destroying it and narrowly missing the main characters. She ran to the edge of what remained of the bridge as Selina and Cassandra tumbled downwards with the stones and watched in horror as a demon rose in the distance.

“Stay behind me,” Cassandra shouted before charging the demon. She was unaware of the demon rising feet from Selina, she always was… And Selina seemed almost frozen in fear at the sight.

“Selina! There’s a staff behind you!” Farrada cried out.

The mage shook herself and turned, dashing to grab the weapon as soon as she spotted it. She threw up a barrier only a moment before claws swiped at her and swung the staff towards the demon, channeling the weapon’s own energy towards her enemy. Farrada scrabbled down the remnants of the bridge as the mage fought, working hard to avoid putting her weight on loose rocks.

“Watch it!” Selina cried and Farrada looked up as she jumped down the remaining few feet to see the demon had turned its attention to her. It moved slowly, clearly hurt from the magical energy Selina threw at it, but Farrada still felt her heart nearly still at the sight of the demonic creature moving towards her.

She dashed sideways towards the spilled crate that Selina’s staff had come from, fingers wrapping around the hilt of a sword just as the mage channeled one last bolt from her staff and the demon fell with a wail. They both looked towards Cassandra as she sliced through the Shade before it and it disappeared, leaving behind a puddle of ooze on the ice. She looked up at the two now armed prisoners and narrowed her eyes, bracing her shield and pointing her sword at them.

“It’s over,” Selina breathed a sigh of relief as she looked around to confirm the demons had halted.

“Drop your weapon.  _ Now _ ,” Cassandra ordered.

Farrada dropped her sword immediately. Even knowing that the Seeker would see that the mage would need to keep a weapon to defend herself, she felt ridiculous grabbing a weapon herself.

Selina slowly lowered her staff, ready to comply before Cassandra halted her. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless,” she admitted reluctantly. “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly. And you should pick that sword back up.”

Farrada looked down at the weapon and swallowed. She wasn’t completely inexperienced with a sword, but a Chinese broadsword was different than the steel shortsword she had snatched, and it had been years since she had discontinued her training. But she knew what lay ahead and she knew Cassandra was right - she shouldn’t be defenseless.

The Seeker handed her two prisoners each a handful of small vials and Farrada realized with a start that they must be elfroot potions. She slipped hers into her jacket pocket, thankful for the zippers that would ensure the vials did not slip out if she fell on the ice.

The party continued along their journey and it seemed that the next wave of demons came in no time. Farrada wracked her brain trying to remember exactly where each batch of enemies would be waiting for them and how many enemies they would face with each battle, but of course everything looked different when she was seeing it herself and not over the shoulder of an animated character.

Cassandra called out suggesting they flank the demons and Farrada remembered. She rolled her wrist, swinging her sword in a circle alongside her to loosen up as Selina threw a barrier over the three of them before Cassandra charged at a shade down the hill. Selina swung her staff in a familiar pattern, flinging bolts of ice at a wraith in the distance and Farrada stood beside her, right leg forward, left hand guarding center, waiting…

Sure enough, a shade made it past the Seeker and approached the other two women. Farrada felt her mouth go dry in fear again as the demon approached her and raised one smoke-like appendage to strike.

_ Swing your sword. _

_ Swing the damn sword, Farra. _

_ Swing the sword or die. _

“Fuck!” She yelled as she moved her wrist across her and upwards, blocking the shade’s arm as it came down and causing the creature to pull back with a hiss. She pulled her hand down, lunging forward and slashing the blade in a line to bisect the demon and it disappeared. 

Selina spun her staff and fired one last bolt at the wraith before it vanished in smoke, ending the arc by tucking the weapon under her arm. “Interesting battle cry,” She said with a smirk in Farrada’s direction.

Farrada laughed in spite of herself.  _ I’ve gone insane. That’s the only explanation _ .

“That was you?” Cassandra asked as she ran back to her companions, shaking her head incredulously. 

“Aye, the lass certainly likes her four-letter words,” Selina giggled and Farrada felt her chest tighten.

_ Why did I have to write a character that sounds so much like my mother? _ She thought frowning at the ground as the two women chuckled and continued moving. 

They continued onwards at a steady pace, Farrada struggling to ignore the stitch in her side and the remnants of her hangover. She was grateful that the trio were not outright jogging as they did on screen, but she was still unaccustomed to brisk hikes up snowy mountain sides.

Soon the sounds of fighting filled the air, and as they crested the top of a flight of steps they found the source of the clamor. Cassandra charged headfirst into the fray as Selina threw a barrier over the few soldiers attempting to hold back the demons pouring from the smaller rift in front of them. Farrada gulped and tightened her grip on her borrowed sword, waiting near the mage in case any shades strayed her way. But the skirmish was short lived, and soon Solas was grabbing Selina’s wrist and shoving her hand up in the air to seal the rift.

As the dust settled around them, Selina stared at the glowing mark and smiled, a small glimmer of hope dancing in her green eyes. “At least this is good for something.”

Farrada watched Solas’ expression as he explained his theory about the mark’s ability to repair tears in the veil. Did he know even now what he had done? That the anchor was going to kill Selina one day if he did not remove her limb? She was just a human - did he even care about her life?

Their introductions passed by as Farrada mused to herself and soon the group picked their way through the rubble and moved towards the valley. 

“So, what’s your story?” Varric asked as he fell in step with Farrada at the back of their group. “I noticed you didn’t give your name when we were all making friends back there.”

“I was just… a little overwhelmed,” she frowned as she spoke, wondering if she should point out the loot they could find in the burning houses nearby.

“I could’ve guessed that, you’re clearly not from around here, kid.”

Farrada laughed dryly. “You don’t know the half of it. And my name’s Farrada.”

Varric raised an eyebrow at her. “Strange name, and a strange accent. Just how far are you from home?”

“Would you believe a whole world away?”

“Kid, look at the sky. With all the weird shit happening right now, I’d believe any story if you spun it well enough.”

“Yeah, well,” Farrada glanced up from the dwarf to the rest of their party just slightly ahead of them and lowered her voice. “Maybe just keep that between us for now? Where I’m from, magic and dragons don’t exist. I shouldn’t  _ be here _ , none of this should be real! But I think you and I both know how much Cassandra would not be happy with that answer.”

“Don’t worry,” Varric said with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They quickened their pace and Varric moved beside Selina, nodding at her once he’d caught her attention. “So I take it you’re from Starkhaven?”

“Oh?”

“Accent,” he explained with a shrug. “Hawke used to run around with a lost prince from Starkhaven. How’d you end up in this mess?”

“I was chosen as a representative at the Conclave for the Ostwick circle because I’m not a threat, but I was in Kirkwall first.”

“No shit. You were in Kirkwall?”’

“Aye, I saw your Hawke in the Gallows sometimes,” she smirked at the dwarf as she spoke. “We could see the Knight-Commander’s face turn red from across the square. Used to take bets on what she was torturing him with each time.”

“You said you were not a threat… How could they be so sure?” Cassandra asked.

“I can’t cast any offensive spells. The closest I ever managed to get to it was defensive glyphs.”

“But you have been fighting with us this whole time!”

“Only through my staff, Seeker,” Selina explained, tapping the weapon against the ground and shooting a small puff of magic into the air for emphasis. “I can channel the energy within the weapon and direct it, but I am not able to summon any of the elements on my own.”

“If you can’t cast any offensive spells how did you pass your harrowing? How do we know you won’t become an abomination?” Cassandra challenged.

“I don’t have to resort to violence to know how to say ‘no’ to temptation, Seeker,” Selina’s voice was harder, her spine rigid at the woman’s accusation.

“See, Seeker? Harmless,” Varris said with his most winning smile in an attempt to break the tension. Cassandra snorted in disgust at him and picked up her pace to escape his antagonizing.

“Hey, look! Are those demons? That looks an awful lot like more demons,” Farrada called out nervously, glad for a distraction from the uncomfortable tension in the air.

Selina raised her hand towards the rift, frowning when she merely disrupted it instead of closing it. Their party made short work of the momentarily stunned demons and after a command from Cassandra, the soldiers opened the gates towards the forward camp.

Farrada stood back as Cassandra and Selina interrupted the argument brewing between Leliana and Roderick. She knew how this conversation went, she had sat through it so many times. But being here in person, seeing the anger and frustration and fear on everyone’s faces, hearing the raised voices echoing over the bridge and not muted by her quieter-than-necessary volume preferences… it was all too much.

“Now you’re asking me what  _ I _ think?” The sudden change in Selina’s tone pulled Farrada back into the conversation.

“Take the mountain path,” she blurted out. Seven pairs of eyes turned to stare at her sudden comment and she found herself glancing to Varric for reassurance.

“And who is this?” Roderick sneered. “A co-conspirator of the prisoner’s? Why is  _ she _ not in chains, Seeker?”

“ _ She _ has done more to help than you have, Chancellor,” Cassandra shot back.

“Look, I’m not some co-conspirator, I’m just some really unlucky fucker,” Roderick coughed at Farrada’s unabashed swearing and Varic didn’t bother covering his chuckle.

“Why should they take the mountain path?” Leliana asked, her gaze fixed on Farrada.

“Because I know you can save your missing soldiers.”

“How can she possibly know that?” Roderick said, crossing his arms and glaring at the group as he spoke.

Farrada bit her tongue against her usual sarcastic answer of “magic,” knowing it wouldn’t go over as well in a world where it actually existed and she didn’t seem to have it.

“I just know. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” Selina murmured. “We’ll take the mountain path.”

Cassandra grimaced but nodded at the order. “Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” Roderick called after her as the group moved on.

Farrada turned to face him and raised her free hand in an obscene gesture towards the man. She couldn't hide the grin from her face as Varric burst out laughing at the Chancellor’s ruffled feathers, although she did her best to feign an innocent expression as Cassandra glanced back at the commotion.

“I like you, kid,” Varric said.

“Aw, thanks,” Farrada blushed. “Don’t get too attached though. I’m not even wearing armor - do you really think I’m gonna last long here?”

Varric shrugged at that. “I have faith in you. And we’ll get you fitted in some good leathers once all this shit settles down and we get back to Haven.”

The mountain path was not too terribly far from the forward camp and soon Farrada was struggling to climb a series of ladders while also carrying a shortsword. She cursed herself for not taking a moment to find its accompanying scabbard after that initial fight but she managed despite her mistake.

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric were the first to reach the entrance to the mines, making short work of the demon laying in wait there. The demons further into the passage however, put up more of a fight. Cassandra charged in first, drawing the attention of most of them while Varris peppered them with bolts from afar. Solas threw a barrier over the ranged fighters while Selina protected Cassandra from afar.

The hair on the back of Farrada’s neck raised and she turned, raising her arm in instinct.

The Shade’s claws met no resistance against her jacket nor the shirt beneath. It hit skin and tore, rending Farrada’s flesh and narrowly missing bone. Farrada screamed, a stream of curses spilling from her lips as blood drenched her skin and she stumbled backwards.

In an instant the Shade was encased in ice and shattered only a moment later as Cassandra rushed in to slice her sword towards the demon. Farrada dropped to her knees and fumbled in her pocket for one of the elfroot vials Cassandra had given her, but Selina crouched beside her instead, hands already glowing healer’s green.

“Shhh, you’re alright, Lass.”

“I am  _ not _ fucking alright!”

“Oh, hush. I’m sure you’ve had worse than this flesh wound before. Besides, we wouldn’t want your shouting to attract more demons now, would we?” Selina asked as she worked.

“I have  _ not _ had worse. I told you, I’m not from here!”

“But… You can use a sword,” Cassandra said, brow furrowed in confusion at Farrada’s hysterics.

Farrada rolled her eyes. “Poorly. I trained for purely ceremonial purposes There’s a reason I’ve been hanging back from every fight. Look at me, I’m clearly not a soldier! Cassandra, when your men found me I had no armor and no weapons. Who in this world goes anywhere without a dagger at the least?”

“A noble?” Cassandra offered, but Farrada scoffed.

“Again, look at me,” she gestured to the puffy, unflattering green jacket, worn black trousers, and hand-me-down boots she wore. “Do I look like a noble?”

“No, but… some of the men who found you said you had been wearing a tiara…”

A few giggles slipped from Selina at that while Farrada gaped at the woman.

“It was my  _ birthday _ .”

Cassandra stood awkwardly, seemingly at a loss for words. Farrada glanced down at her injured arm and fought to suppress a gag as she caught a glimpse of her skin knitting itself back together under Selina’s ministrations.

“I’m almost done, love,” she muttered gently. “Varric, be a dear and give her some of your water? Just sips now, love. It’ll help with the nausea.”

They did as instructed while Selina finished her spell and inspected her work. “There, just a scar now. Can you stand? You might feel a tad woozy for a bit.”

Farrada nodded and scooped up her sword once more before climbing to her feet. “I’m not one to pass out, don’t worry. And… thank you.”

Selina smiled brightly up at her. “Anytime, lass. It’s what I do best.”

“If we are done here,” Solas said, gesturing with one hand towards the exit. “We have a rift to seal.”

Farrada shot a glare in the elf’s direction but moved towards the exit nonetheless, suddenly worried she had wasted too much time. After all, when she found the soldiers in-game they were always fighting against yet another cluster of demons. But how long could they last? If their group delayed too long, would the find only bodies instead?

She nearly stumbled over the corpse of a soldier as she exited the mine, simultaneously blinded by sunlight reflecting off the snow and doing everything she could to avoid looking at the body.

“Guess we found the soldiers,” Varric sighed.

“This cannot be all of them!” Cassandra said, turning her head as if hoping to see more men nearby.

“It isn’t. They’ll be further ahead,” Farrada said. She took off as quickly as she could down the rocky path, not allowing any of her companions the chance to ask the questions they undoubtedly held.

“Our priority must be the breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe,” Solas said as the rest of the party took off down the path.

“Aye, that may be,” Selina said as she glanced up at the tear in the sky before meeting the apostate’s gaze. “But if we find people in need between here and there, I’ll do everything in my power to help them as well.”

They didn’t have to go far before they stumbled upon yet another rift and a small group of soldiers fighting off more demons.

“Lady Cassandra!” one of the women cried out in surprise and relief as the Seeker charged into battle, knocking a shade to the ground with her shield along the way.

“You’re alive!”

“Just barely.”

Farrada kept her distance from the battle, not wishing to feel her skin rent apart again so soon. The demons were quickly defeated and Selina closed the small rift with more ease than before.

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

“Thank our prisoners, Lieutenant,” Cassandra said with a gesture towards the two women. “They both insisted we come this way.”

“Curious,” Solas stared at Farrada as he spoke, truly taking her in for the first time since they had met. “I wonder, how  _ did _ you know we would find the missing soldiers? And that they still lived?”

Farrada did her best to keep her expression neutral, but her posture tensed and she avoided his gaze. “Just a hunch.”

“And yet one you were adamant that we all act upon,” he stepped closer and she bristled, glaring up at the intrusion.

“Look, I’ll do my best to explain all this weird shit later. Right now our priority is  _ that _ ,” she flung one arm back to point at the breach for emphasis. 

Solas’ lips quirked as he let out a huff that might have been a dry laugh and stepped back. “Then I look forward to hearing your explanation, Serrah.”

They made their way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes in a tense silence, the proximity of the Breach weighing heavily on everyone. Farrada paled as she saw the burned remains of one of the victims of the explosion, still frozen on their knees. She clenched her fist around the hilt of her sword and forced her gaze away from the image.

_ Panic about that later. Help Selina now _ .

“This is your chance to end this,” Cassandra’s voice pulled Farrada from her thoughts once again. “Are you ready?”

“Aye,” Selina nodded solemnly, one hand twisting on her staff the only outward sign of the anxiety weighing on her.

They slowly picked their way through shards of red lyrium down towards the base of the temple. The glow of the lyrium gave off an odd, sick feeling that made Farrada’s stomach churn and her forehead break out in sweat anytime she made the mistake of stepping too close.

Corypheus’ voice boomed through the air, vibrating throughout Farrada’s chest as they approached the rift but she ignored his words. She ignored Cassandra’s surprise as Selina’s lilting voice joined in, an echo of the cataclysmic event playing out for them all. She simply flexed her freezing fingers on the hilt of her sword.

_ You’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna get some real armor so you don’t fucking die. And then you’re gonna find a way home. _

Selina glanced over her shoulder towards her companions, marked hand outstretched toward the rift. “Ready?”

They all gave their affirmations and Selina turned to face the rift, raising her hand to activate her mark..

The Pride demon was so much more terrifying than it had ever appeared on screen. It towered above the men on the ground and was easily eye level with the archers perched on higher ground. Multiple sets of black eyes glittered with mirth as the demon took in its surroundings and let out a chilling laugh. The air suddenly felt statically charged as it conjured a bolt of lightning and whipped it towards a line of Inquisition soldiers. Cassandra rushed the demon while Varric, Solas and Selina fought from a distance but the demon seemed unfazed by their efforts.

“Selina, use your mark!” Farrada yelled over the sounds of combat. 

“The rift won’t close as long as that thing is alive! I already tried that on one of the last rifts!” She called back, throwing up a fresh barrier on the melee fighters as she spoke.

“No, but you’ll disrupt it so we can actually hurt the damn thing!”

Selina shot a hesitant glance at the other woman before raising her marked hand toward the rift once again. Sickly green light flared, then the Pride demon suddenly fell to one knee, momentarily weakened from the interference with the Breach.

The rest of the fight seemed easier after that. Varric peppered the extra Shades with bolts and Farrada cut the weakened demons down as they tried to approach the mages. Once the Pride demon pulled itself back to its feet Selina disrupted the rift once again.

Cassandra struck the demon down and called out as its corpse dissolved to black ichor. “Now! Seal the sift!”

Selina was leaning heavily on her staff but she nodded and raised her hand towards the Breach one last time. Everyone watched on in hope as the green light stretched between her and the hole in the sky, but Farrada turned to Solas. His brow was creased, his knuckles white against his staff as he watched on, hope and desperation etched upon his face.

A wave of light pulsed outwards as the rift seemed to close. Cheers rang out from the surrounding soldiers. Selina swayed on her feet for a moment before she collapsed into the arms of Farrada, who had rushed behind her as soon as her mark stopped glowing.

Farrada glanced up at the place she had fallen from into this world. Her throat closed as she fought tears, and knowing the woman in her arms was unconscious she swore to herself under her breath.

“I  _ will _ find a way home.”


	3. Martin and McCallum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long. Have a long-ish chapter to make up for it. ♥  
> (I forgot to re-copy the text after proof-reading so I am updating it with the edited text today)

Rylen held his breath for only a moment before letting out a shaky sigh of relief as the soldiers cheered around him. The breach may not have been sealed, but it appeared much more stable after whatever the mage below had done to it. Men and women around him cheered and embraced one another, some dropped to their knees and thanked the maker for the reprieve from the demons that had been raining down from the skies.

“Andraste sent her, she must have.”

“A mage?”

“Who else could wield the power to stop the breach from expanding? The Maker’s Bride  _ must _ have sent her!”

Rylen sheathed his sword as the murmurs filled the air around him and looked down from his ledge towards the mysterious women below. The mage had collapsed after exerting whatever ability allowed her to stabilize the rift. Her long, brown hair had come undone from its braid and much of it hung around her face, obscuring her features from Rylen’s view.

The woman who held her was even more unusual however. Rylen had watched as she lunged forward to catch the mage as she fainted and slowly fell to her knees, as if she couldn’t hold the other woman up alone. Her face was turned up towards the rift, it’s sickly green light tinting her pale skin from proximity. Even from a distance Rylen could see the smudged remnants of the kohl the woman had worn before all this, could see the tears that left tracks down her cheeks as she looked up at the rift. 

He noticed with curiosity that she did not appear to be wearing armor, and in fact her garments were like none he had seen in Thedas. One of her sleeves had been shredded and blood stained, her tight-fitting trousers were not of a material that he could identify from this distance, and she wore odd specticals rimmed in pink.

Rylen watched as Cassandra and another soldier moved to help life the mage and carry her away towards Haven and shook himself. There was still work to be done, bodies to collect and names to document, patrols to set, fortifications to renew. He sheathed his sword and went to work, eager to find his cot and some reprieve from days of fighting.

He felt like his head had only just hit the pillow when the voices of some of his men broke through the relative silence of his tent. 

“Oiy, Captain! Come and have a pint with us!”

Rylen groaned and pushed his head further into his pillow. From the sounds of it, the men were already a few pints in as they called to him. He folded his pillow over his head, trying to block out the sound but it seemed his men weren't leaving without him and he soon threw the covers off with a growl before stalking to the entrance of the tent and throwing the flap open to shoot a withering glare at the jovial men.

“Maker's Balls, haven't you ever heard of letting a man rest?” He demanded.

“Captain!” One of Cullen's personal runners - Jim, wasn't it - rocked back on his heels and clapped the back of the man nearest him. “Told you he'd come out! The world's either ending or being saved by the Herald. Either reason is worth a drink!”

Rylen crossed his arms and stared at the small group before him. They had a point and he was already awake now…

“Aye, all right, just let me throw my boots on. And you're all buying my drinks.”

He threw on his boots and a cloak to protect from the cold before joining the men and making their way towards the tavern Flissa had been running. The building was packed with more soldiers celebrating the day's victory. Varric sat on the bar top recounting the story of their battle to a group of eager young troops. A Bard stood off to one side, quietly singing a new song she had composed after the recent events of the conclave. The air was warm and the room felt comforting after days of fighting. Rylen felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he downed his first mug of ale and leaned his back against the bar to observe the people around him.

His gaze soon fell on the stranger at the back of the room. She had tucked herself into a corner near the fire, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest as she stared ahead at nothing. The odd, green garment she had been wearing before was now opened and draped over her shoulders, revealing a red plaid shirt beneath it. 

“They say she fell out of the breach, along with the Herald,” one of the men said as he noticed Rylen staring. “James says she's got pink hair. He thinks she's a demon.”

“Maker's Breath, man, d’you really think Cassandra would've taken her as far as the gates without realizing if she was a demon!”

“Maybe not,” the man shrugged and placed more coins on the bar top, signaling Flissa for two more drinks. “But whatever she is, Captain she's definitely not  _ normal _ .”

Rylen eyed the stranger from across the room again. She had managed to remove most of the smudged kohl that had marked her face when he saw her at the temple, but she seemed haunted as she hugged her knees and stared into the flames. 

“Whatever she is,” Rylen echoed as Flissa placed two more mugs on the counter and he quickly plucked both of them. “She looks like she's in need of this more than you, mate,” and he set off towards her corner, ignoring the protests of the man behind him.

“You look like you could use this. Ah, sorry,” she hadn’t looked up at this approach and jerked in surprise as he spoke, green eyes flying wide in her surprise.

“No, it’s not you. I’ve always been jumpy as fuck, even before I got here,” she said. She settles back into her seat as she spoke but Rylen noticed almost none of the tension bled from her shoulders.

Rylen used a foot to pull out the chair across from her and offered one of the pints out to her. She glanced at it wearily and Rylen shrugged before setting it on the table between them and taking a pull from his own mug.

“Before you got here? And where were you before Haven?”

She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat but her lips quirked upwards as she answered. “Not Haven. Look, I thought I was done with the interrogation portion of today.”

Rylen chucked and held up his hands in surrender. “All right, lass. I’ll lay off. Can I at least get a name from you?”

“Any name?” she answered with another smirk and Rylen laughed.

“Yours would be preferable, unless you’d rather be called ‘lass’ all night,” he winked and she looked away, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “My name is Rylen McCallum.”

“I know who you are, Captain. I’m Farrada Martin - call me Farra.”

“Well then, Farra, how is it that you already know who I am?” he took another drink of his ale and nodded toward her tankard. “If you’re not going to drink that, I really ought to return it to the soldier that paid for it.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before she answered.  _ Spirited lass, this one _ .

“One, interrogating again. Two, I just pay attention,  _ sir _ . There can’t be too many Captains walking around with tattoos on their face,” she drew two fingers down his chin for emphasis as she spoke. “And three, I don’t drink on an empty stomach.”

Rylen raised a brow at that. “Y’know, Farra, that last one is easily solved in the tavern.”

She frowned, avoiding his gaze again as her cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment. “Not um… Not without the proper currency. I told you, I’m not from here.”

“Where then? Orlais perhaps?”

She laughed at that. “Oh,  _ fuck _ no! Do I look or sound Orlesian? And know that if you don’t say no I’ll be insulted.”

“No, you’re right there, lass. So then I take it you came to the tavern in search of some poor fool who would be so enchanted by your beauty, he would empty his coin purse to fill your belly?”

She shot a glare at him before scrunching her eyes shut and sticking out her tongue at his teasing.

“You should really put that away if you don’t intend to use it, lass,” he warned with another wink and this time she blushed in earnest.

“If I really wanted someone to take pity on my poor, unfed self, don’t you think I would be at the bar instead of hiding at the back of the room? I just needed to get away from Solas and Adan’s bickering.”

Rylen frowned at that. “Has the mage not woken still?”

“Selina. And no, she won’t for a couple days,” Farrada muttered as she shook her head. “Anyway, you mentioned food? I believe I recall someone mentioning food.”

Rylen chucked and downed the rest of his ale before standing. “Aye, I suppose I could be moved to find you some supper. Stay here?” his voice rose in tone as he spoke, half worried if he let her out of his sight she would disappear.

Farra’s whole face seemed to light as she smiled up at him, but he was struck most by her eyes, vibrantly green like moss after rain.

“I promise.”

He moved through the semi-crowded tavern back to the bar. One of the men who had convinced him to leave his tent rushed up before he could catch Flissa’s attention and spoke quickly under his breath.

“Captain, what is she? What did she say? Does she really have pink hair? Did she try to offer you anything? Sir, you should really Silence her-”

“Jim!” Rylen cut the man off, unsure if he wanted to laugh or berate the man. “She’s just some poor soul misplaced by this Maker-damned war just like any other refugee. There’s no need to break out the pitchforks and call in the Templars.”

Jim looked skeptical but turned back to his fellow soldiers, leaving Rylen in peace to order two servings of the stew the tavern was serving for supper. He hadn’t realized how starved he was until ordering their food. After all, in all the chaos following the Conclave and the days of fighting the demons that poured from the Breach, when was the last time he had stopped to eat?

Flissa soon brought out two steaming servings of lamb stew with two generous portions of bread. With a few extra coins and a “thanks, love” for her troubles, Rylen turned to find his way back to Farra.

She had completely shed her coat and partially unbuttoned the red plaid shirt she wore, revealing a low-cut black shirt underneath and a generous amount of the pale curves beneath. She still wore her black knitted cap but even in the low light of the tavern he could see the color in her cheeks from her warmth.

“Y’know, lass, you’d be a lot more comfortable if you took off your cap,” Rylen said as he set their food on the table and resumed his seat across from her. 

“Less warm, maybe, but definitely not more comfortable. And I thought the whole point of you convincing me to tell your my name was so that you wouldn’t have to call me ‘lass’ all night,” she said with a smirk.

“I could stop if you like,” Rylen offered.

“I never said that…”

They fell into a comfortable silence as they both started on their suppers, Farrada occasionally humming happily as she ate. Rylen fought to ignore the exhaustion creeping into his mind as the warm stew filled his empty stomach. Farrada’s face suddenly lit in another grin as she caught sight of something over his shoulder.

“Varric!” 

‘Well, if it isn’t our own little Seer,” Varric’s deep voice booked over the lull of the tavern noise. “And Rylen! I’m surprised you’re still upright after the days you’ve had.”

“Oh, I never have a problem staying upright,” Rylen said with another wink towards Farrada, who giggled in response. He found himself smiling at the almost musical quality of her laughter.

“What brings you two together this evening?” Varric asked as he slung himself into a seat next to Farrada.

“My men claimed there was a demon in our midst, I had to investigate for myself of course,” Rylen said, but Farra’s face paled and fear was in her eyes. He frowned and quickly apologized but Varric paid him no attention.

“Speaking of, kid, I need you to settle a bet for me,” he said, leaning towards Farrada with one eyebrow raised. She turned to give him her full attention and he continued. “You don’t actually have pink hair, do you?”

Farrada matched his wry smirk and reached for the tankard Rylen had set out for her, taking a gulp before answering. “Tell you what. I’ll settle your bet if you tell me about the Champion.”

“Y’know, there’s conveniently a book all about her exploits so you don’t have to bother the dwarf for answers.”

“Yes, but then I would be deprived of your wonderfully unique voice, master dwarf,” she said with a grin.

Varric cast a glance to Rylen and shot back with a smirk, “I’m sure if you asked nicely you could get someone with a lovely brogue to tell you the story.”

“Oh, I suppose,” Rylen sighed theatrically. “But I am not doing the voices.”

Farrada turned pink and shot flashed a glare towards both men. “Shut up, I didn’t… Just, shut up. Varric, c’mon. You know hearing about Hawke from you is vastly superior to reading about her.”

Varric smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Fine, but about that bet…”

Farrada nodded and took a larger pull of her ale, grimacing as she did. “Ugh. I think I would’ve preferred mead. And fine, it’s not like I can keep it hidden forever.”

She pulled her knitted cap from her head before quickly running her fingers through her short hair in an attempt to re-fluff her flattened locks. It was indeed bright pink, but as odd as the unnatural color was it was undeniably suited to her. It nearly matched the blush in her cheeks, and somehow the vivid pink surrounding her face emphasized her pale green eyes even more.

‘Well, I’ll be a nug’s uncle,” Varric said, chuckling and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Sorry, Varric,” Farrada said with a shrug. “With all the weird shit you saw today, you really should’ve known better than to bet against more weirdness. At least where it involves me.”

“You’re right. This still doesn’t top your whole ‘seeing the future’ shit though.”

“Ah, what’s this?” Rylen asked but Farrada shushed him, waving a hand in his direction as she glared at Varric.

“Nothing, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Now - bet settled, I believe that makes it story time!”

“I suppose I’ll take my leave then,” Rylen said as he started to rise from his seat. 

“Cap - Rylen… Stay, please?” Farrada’s brows furrowed as she looked up at him. Varric raised an eyebrow and glanced between the two as Rylen shrugged and sat back down.

“As you wish.”

“Well then, if we’re all settled in?” Varric asked. Farrada nodded eagerly and wiggled as she sank back further into her chair.

“Marian Hawke was one of the wittiest, most sarcastic Apostates I had ever met. Even from the first time I laid eyes on her, she seemed to permanently have a smirk fixed on her face and her bright blue eyes always sparkled with an unspoken joke…”

As Varric went on about his adventures with Marian Hawke and how they recruited their merry band of misfits, Rylen continually found his gaze pulled to the woman seated across from him. She became more animated as she got further into her ale and began to let some of her guard down. She laughed more, and she was so engrossed in the dwarf’s story telling that she never noticed Rylen simply sitting back and taking in every detail of her.

Her short hair was flattened from spending the day concealed under her knitted cap, but sections remained almost stubbornly wavy. Rylen found his gaze pulled down once more to the hint of curves revealed by her unbuttoned shirt, but frowned once he spotted the thin scar curving over her heart. She moved her right hand up and ran her fingers through her hair, a copper ring on her third finger glinting in the firelight. He glanced at her left hand for a matching ring announcing that she was married, but none of the three rings she bore on that hand were on her ring finger. He wondered what their significance was to her. Commoners did not tend to wear jewelry, and while she did not appear to be a noble she wore four rings between both hands: copper and silver rings with intricate, braided knotwork, a gold fox wrapped around her thumb, and a small, silver ring set with a gem he did not recognize.

So much of her was pink: her flower-pink hair, her unusually large glasses, her small lips… Even her cheeks were easy to flush with the color. She may be human, but the more Rylen took her in the more he felt sure she was not a creature of this world.

By the time Varric reached the moment Hawke recruited the elf Fenris into her merry band of misfits, Farrada was visibly struggling to keep her eyes open. Varric let out a deep chuckle and clapped a broad hand on her back, causing her to jerk up with a quiet “shit!”

“I think we’ll leave it there tonight, Farra,” he said as he picked up his own drink and stood from the table. “I trust you can see her home, Rylen?”

“Aye, I’m long overdue for bed myself,” Rylen said as he stretched and stood, body aching from the prolonged battle. “Shall we?”

She hesitated before placing a hand on his outstretched arm to help her up. The moment she was fully off her seat her hand was gone as she reached both arms up and arched her back, wincing at her own aches and pains. She wordlessly buttoned her shirt closed before wrapping herself in her green coat and a long, blue and gray scarf he hadn’t seen before. 

“Not a fan of the cold, I take it?” Rylen asked as they walked out of the tavern and into the night.

“Nope,” Farrada replied before sighing heavily, shoulders sagging as she did. “But I guess I’m gonna have to suck it up as long as I’m stuck here.”

“Stuck? Oh, c’mon now lass. It can’t be all that bad now can it?” She shot a cynical look towards him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, the company isn’t all that terrible is it?”

He caught a glimpse of the small smile he’d earned before she turned away. It was a short walk to the cabin she shared with the Herald. She unlocked the door and turned to say goodnight but froze as Rylen closed the gap between them.

“Farra…” He murmured her name as he reached up with one hand to thread his fingers in her hair. He was surprised to feel a section of her hair had been buzzed near the nape of her neck, but his fingers found purchase and her eyelids fluttered shut as a shudder ran through her.

But before he could close the remaining space between them, her green eyes opened again and her felt her shift as one hand reached behind her for the door.

“Good night, Captain,” she said. 

Before he could reply she stepped out of his grasp and through the door to her quarters, shutting it behind her quickly and leaving Rylen alone in the night with the faint smell of vanilla and honey in the air.

\---

Rylen woke alone and sore in his tent the following morning, simultaneously thankful for and cursing his own internal alarm. He knew it wouldn’t do for the Commander’s second to be late to morning drills, but after the prolonged fight following the explosion at the Conclave his entire body ached.

He sat up with a sigh, dragging a rough hand down the stubble on his face. Sunlight had yet to break through the opening of his tent so he went through his morning routine at a slower pace that his usual, taking the extra time to apply elfroot salve to the worst of his bruises.

Exhaustion still hung heavily over Rylen, and he found himself clinging to routine as the day progressed. Drills at dawn, a quick breakfast before more drills through noon, lunch with Commander Cullen as he helped the man pour over seemingly endless reports. Things had become more tense leading up to the events of the Conclave but Rylen suddenly found himself grateful for the long hours they had all been running before the explosion. The day was easier for him with the established routine he could practically walk through without thought.

That routine was disrupted partially through the afternoon when she came into view again. He nearly failed to recognize her as she walked by him. She had changed out of her odd, foreign clothes into light leather armor that clung to her curves in a way that all too unfairly emphasized the flare of her hips and her small waist. But she still wore the same sage green boots and black knit cap as she had when they met the night before.

Rylen had nearly forgotten about his encounter with Farrada. In his state of exhaustion he had simply thrown himself into his duties as Captain without a thought. But as she walked past the rows of Inquisition soldiers and out of sight over the hill, he felt drawn to seek her out, if only to see what the woman was doing with the staff she had been carrying.

He turned back to his men and corrected the technique of several of the newer soldiers before approaching the Commander.

“Commander Cullen,” Rylen said with a salute. “Permission to go check on our visitor, ser?”

Cullen’s brows furrowed at his clipboard as he frowned. “I believe the Herald’s quarters are cramped enough with Solas and Adam looking after them. And last I heard they were still unconscious from their efforts with the breach.”

“Aye, that she is. But I meant her civilian friend that just strode down to the lake.”

Cullen quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at his friend but did not prod. “All right,” he agreed, rolling his head in an attempt to loosen muscles that ached from hours bent over a clipboard. “In all honestly I could use a break from staring at these reports. I’ll send a runner if I have need of you.”

“Much appreciated,” Rylen said.

He pivoted away and crested the hill, stopping to watch Farrada as he decided if he should approach. Her back was towards him as she twirled an unadorned staff over each hand before, catching it and flipping it back the other way. She didn’t seem to be using the staff to channel any magic - in fact, the staff itself was plain wood that did not seem capable of such uses. He frowned and cautiously used Silence on her.

She was completely unaffected.

Seemingly satisfied with the weight of the weapon, Farrada began to go through the movements of an unfamiliar form. She thrust the staff forward, then stepped back and moved it downwards to block some imaginary strike.

Rylen started down the hill in her direction, calling out when she didn’t look up at his approach. “Y’know, lass, if you’re hoping to fight in this war you’re going to want something better than a staff.”

“Mother fu-” Farrada’s shoulders instantly stiffened as she turned to face him, swinging her staff up in a maneuver that would have caught him between the legs had he been any closer.

“Stand down, lass” Rylen chuckled as he threw his palms up in surrender. “Didn’t I see you with a sword yesterday? You’d stand a better chance in the army with a blade.”

“I’m not enlisting,” She spun the staff and tucked it behind her but her posture remained tense - was she always so rigid?

“All right, no one’s saying you have to. So then why are you out here training by yourself?”

“Your… Things are more dangerous here than they are where I’m from,” Farrada said with a frown. “I picked up that sword because it was the only thing in reach and I didn’t want to die. But if the worst happens and I have to fight with a person rather than a demon… Hurt rather than maim, maim rather than kill.”

Her frown deepened as she spoke, and the change in her cadence made Rylen wonder what exactly she had been reciting.

“Well, if you really want to stand a chance in a fight, you need to spar with a real person and not just the wind.”

Farrada hesitated, glancing up the hill in the direction of the Inquisition’s soldiers still running their own drills. “Are they using sharp or dulled blades?”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering you a recruit. You’ll hardly be able to learn anything there. And I assure you, this is a training blade - it won’t draw blood unless you try really hard.”

Farrada gave him a dry smirk as she swung her staff back out to a ready position. “You’d be surprised, Captain. I’ve had my skin broken by a dull blade before.”

“I guess you’ll just have to block me first then,” Rylen said as he drew the dulled shortsword he used for sparring with the troops.

He started out easy on her, telegraphing his moves and swinging wide on his attacks to give her more time to react. She was timid in her defense and focused too much on blocking his strikes without returning any of her own. She knew to watch his center for movements rather than his sword though, and soon Rylen stopped telegraphing to see if she could still keep up.

“You’re pulling your punches, Farra. Every block should feel like a strike of its own.”

She glared at him, green eyes flashing in irritation but she followed his instructions and suddenly every strike she blocked made his sword hilt vibrate in his palm. 

As the sound of the soldiers training died down, Farrada began to wince in pain with every move. Her jaw tightened and her whole stance became more rigid until Rylen finally took a step back and sheathed his sword.

“You did well, lass. Next time it would do you well to strike back, you can’t just defend all… Farra?”

Her knuckles were white against her staff and she was staring down. Her shoulders were stiff and high as always, but her right shoulder was jerking in a way that looked both uncomfortable and involuntary. He stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder and for once she didn’t shy away. 

He could feel it now - the joint slipping in and out of its socket, the unsettling crunch of bone against bone, the slight tremor running through her as the pain set in.

“Maker’s breath, Farrada… Why didn’t you say something?”

“If you were my enemy you wouldn’t stop just because I’m already broken,” her voice was strained as she spoke.

Slowly, gingerly, Rylen placed his hands on either side of her right shoulder. He laced his fingers together over the joint and applied pressure until the spasms started to calm down with the joint trapped in place. Tears sprang to Farrada’s eyes as she sagged against him, burying her face against his shoulder.

“My mom is the only other person who’s ever managed to stop it. Thank you.”

“Next time you get this bad in training, you stop and go to a healer. Understood?”

“They’re all busy with Selina and the soldiers wounded after the breach, I can’t just -”

Rylen cut her off, placing a hand on either shoulder and pushing her an arms length away to better meet her gaze. “You stop and go see a healer or I drag you to one myself. Am I understood?”

His tone left no room for arguing so Farrada simply nodded in answer. Rylen sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

“I should get back to my duties. If you’re serious about wanting to defend yourself, you know where to find a sparring partner.”

“Thank you,” she murmured before turning and heading back up the hill towards Haven.

Rylen moved back towards the Commander’s tent to ensure his friend had eaten and made a mental note to ask Adan what he could do for whatever put Farrada in so much pain as soon as the Herald was up and about. Even as he drifted off that night, he found himself thinking of the pain in Farrada’s face and worrying how long she would last in this war pushing herself the way she had today. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out soon and for the second time in as many nights, Rylen drifted off into the Fade picturing her green eyes and playful smirk.


End file.
